And so we dance
by Lysander Iskanlofen
Summary: They said that Troy would stand strong as long as Hector would protect it. So Hector would do her best to keep it safe. The story is loosely based on the historical events of the Trojan war and the 2004 movie. AU where Hector is female.
1. A Prince of Troy

"To peace."

That was what Hector had said in earnest just the day before. And now, she was acting against her own words. Troy's crown prince cursed under her breath, blaming herself for being unable to deny her brother's wish. King Priam, their father, had worked for years for the peace between Sparta and Troy. Hector herself had experienced the last years of the war first hand, when she took arms at the age of fifteen. Now, four years later, she was a respected general, whose reputation reached Thessaly and Greece equally.

On the other hand, Paris had lived a sheltered life with his adopted family. In the early years of the war, he had been too young to be sent into battle, and when he had been recovered, the war was already in its final stages. He only knew war through the tales of glory that were reported back from the front. His head was full of heroes, honor, and glorious battles. Hector knew that none of that existed in the chaos of the battlefield. She knew how much a war was devastating to a country, taking a strong toll on its people, and leaving nothing but barren soil after it. It was cruel, but necessary for an even stronger nation to be reforged. She knew the price of peace, and how much it had to be valued.

And yet, she had allowed Paris to take Helen with him. She was fully aware of the consequences her brother's action could have. But she had allowed Helen to stay.

Perhaps she had taken to the optimism of the newly established peace. Troy had regained its footing surprisingly fast, prospering beyond imagination. Her people united behind a single cause, Hector had left her homeland without any worry. Yes, war burnt everything in its tracks, but yet, what was reborn from it was beautiful. It was like a dream after a horrible nightmare. Surely Menelaus would not sacrifice the peace for just that. The abduction of his wife was not worth years of war. Not so soon after the last one. Things could be talked through, that was what Hector would do. That was what king Priam would do.

That was, unless Menelaus involved his brother Agamemnon. Hector feared what the greedy king would be able to do if he went against Troy. The man controlled almost all of the known lands. He had always shown interest in Thessaly, always looking to expand his territory. At his scale, the previous war between Sparta and Troy had been like a skirmish for him. Certainly, Troy did not hold enough land to justify raising such an army, would it?

Once they reached Troy, they would send messengers with gifts to Menelaus and the other kings present at the peace banquet. It was not as if the Spartan king was attached to his queen anyways. During the week they were in Sparta, Hector had turned a blind eye to his affections for his many servants, just like she had turned a blind eye to Paris' visits to Helen. Perhaps Helen would have to be sent back, or a political marriage could be arranged with one of her many sisters. There were so many possibilities. Once in Troy, her father would know what to do. Hector irritably dug her knife in the wooden sculpture she destined for her son. She felt both angry and ashamed. Once again, she shied away from her responsibilities. She simply could not deny her baby brother anything.

Hector remembered Paris and Helen begging for her forgiveness, just a few minutes ago, when she had discovered them hiding on the ship. She had seen the love that united them. Even though they had met just a week before, their bond ran deeper than the simple physical attraction between the fairest woman in Greece and the most handsome man known in their realm. Hector had seen enough of her siblings fall madly in love and developing each and every kind of relationships to pinpoint what her brother exactly felt for Helen. And the desperate look the fallen queen had given her had convinced her that Paris' feelings were indeed reciprocated. Helen's marriage had not been one of love, and Menelaus had been everything but a good husband to her. Hector pitied Helen, and while she would have no qualms to return the woman to Sparta and abandon her to her fate, she recognized that Paris' fate was now tied to Helen's. And she would not lose yet another brother to a war that had already ended. Their relieved expressions when she had agreed to return to Troy had pained her to no end, for she knew she was making a foolish decision.

Somehow, Hector was jealous of them, for having found each other. While she loved her wife, Andromache, their feelings towards each other were more akin to a strong friendship. They were faithful to each other, and had developed a fondness along the years. But their marriage had been one of politics. They both understood their roles and fulfilled them flawlessly. The two of them were viewed in Troy as the perfect, loving family. It reassured the citizens when they needed stability most in war times, and this was a constant that had never changed in the five years that they had been together.

Hector was happy indeed. She unconsciously longed for more, and knew that Andromache did too. They often discussed that topic, and both knew they could not risk their current life for anything else. For their people, they simply couldn't. And they were happy with that. They both knew that being royalty was as much a privilege as it was a duty. They didn't have to cook, clean or do any menial task for themselves. Their needs were provided for. They had plenty to eat, warmth when it was cold outside, and comfortable clothes to wear. They received an education, the best professors, the finest weapons. Their people worked to provide them with skills they themselves did not have the time nor money to master. And for that reason, they had to devote these skills entirely to their people. That was their role, their duty, their privilege.

From the moment she had given her first judgment at the age of seven, Hector's life had been traced. As the crown prince, she had received a strict yet loving upbringing, learning politics, academic skills and warfare from an early age. She had devoted herself to becoming a good king and had married a princess who understood her role as well as herself. She would raise her heir like she had been raised, instilling into his young mind with values of duty, honor and faith. Hector had become a pillar of Troy, a great general and a great father. At the age of nineteen, she had already taken many impactful decisions without any fear. And yet, she could not shake the shiver that took her when she tried to untangle the conflicted feelings she had towards Paris and Helen.


	2. War again

"War. They have declared war upon us."

Hector fell on her bed, feeling nauseous. Of all scenarios she had thought about during their journey back to Troy, she had not forgotten the prospect of Agamemnon declaring war against Troy. But to her, it had been the least plausible event that could happen.  
And yet here they were. Menelaus had been quick to report to his brother, and the latter had been even quicker to send for the other Greek kingdoms. In a few months, he would be marching onto Troy. Hector hadn't even had the time to send a messenger to Menelaus. War was at their door. Again.

Hector clenched her fists. She had failed her father, her people. She had been sent to ensure peace. And instead, she had brought war. A war worse than Troy had ever known. How could she look at her father again?

A warm hand pressed against Hector's nape. It moved against the tense muscles, massaging the stiff neck. The prince moaned thankfully, and moved to give her wife a better access to her skin.  
"You have done your best. Do not resent yourself, husband." said the soothing voice of Andromache.  
"I should have sent Helen back. And dragged Paris back to Troy with me."  
"He would not have listened. And as soon as you would have had your eyes off him, he would have gone to the Spartan queen. You did what was right. The fault is entirely theirs. But it is no use to discuss fault now, isn't it?"

Hector turned, facing the beautiful woman that was her wife. She took hold of the hand on her cheek, taking comfort where it was offered.  
"You are right, my wife. Now is not the time for wallowing in self-pity. We must prepare. The Greeks will soon be at our doors."  
"Indeed. The gods have played a cruel joke on us, but they don't do anything without a reason. There will be sunshine in the end."  
"Cassandra has predicted the demise of our city. In blurred words, but I hardly see how that could be interpreted differently."  
"This prediction is ridiculous. Do not think of it."  
"It is logical, in all senses. But I can't help finding it outrageous. Strange things happen around my sister. But enough talking about dark futures. How are you faring, love?"

Andromache lied down against Hector, passing a hand over the little swell on her belly.  
"Nothing could be better. Our child is growing stronger by the day. I am following Cirrha's diet, and she said we should get a healthy son."  
Hector smiled, and put her hand on her wife's, entangling their fingers. The child would not be of her blood, but she loved it as if it was. By their agreement, it had been conceived by her father, king Priam, and would be raised as Hector's offspring. The infant would be of royal blood, and able to claim right to the throne, second to Hector only.  
"I hope he will be like King Eethion. Fair and just. A good king." said Hector, referring to her wife's beloved father.  
Andromache let out a tingling laugh.  
"Then he would also be mischievous and an incorrigible prankster. Not so bad, that would bring laughter and joy. But I also wish for him to be as strong and reliable as you, husband. Only less worried and more enjoying of what life gives him."

Hector felt her tiredness fly away. Despite being a year younger than her, Andromache always knew how to take her mind away from the worries of her life. She pulled her wife agaist her and sighed, content, when Andromache snuggled closer. At the contact, Hector felt a pang of guilt and concern for the future of the little life between them. Sleep eluded her that night.


	3. Troy's shores

Hector had seen the Greek fleet arrive from far away. There were many more ships than she had ever seen. Even from the high walls of Troy, she could not see the end of what seemed to be a swarm of locusts darken the surface of the water. Lines and lines of boats and the roars of men excited to see land after weeks at sea. Everyone wanted to be the first to set foot on the Trojan shores.  
Hector watched, standing proud over the gates of Troy, to show her citizens that she did not fear the Greek army.

Outside the city walls, the priests of Apollo had decided to do the same, remaining in the temple on the beach, offering prayers to the guardian deity of Troy, and hoping that the Greeks would not dare sully a temple. The priests had protested loudly when Hector had taken the decision to leave the shores unprotected. She had insisted. There were simply too many opponents to hope to keep it safe. Instead, she had fortified the walls of the city and its immediate surroundings, securing supply routes towards their allies.  
And she had left a little surprise for the Greeks in the waves.

The first ship was suddenly stopped, crashing against a strong fence of spikes hidden in the water. Men fell overboard. The wood cracked, sending deadly splinters everywhere. Cries of alarm soared as the strong tides pushed the ship further onto the trap. The sinister creaks of the wooden embarcation were soon silenced as water flooded the boat. Men jumped into the water, quickly gaining the shores with whatever resources they could save.  
A smaller boat was shredded into two clean parts upon the crash. Too close to turn away, the first line of ships fell into the trap. Greek warriors found death before even setting foot ashore.

Hector stayed on top of the Trojan walls, observing the next line of ships turning around. They remained at sea, and sent out men to remove the spikes and the wrecks of their own army. It took them a few hours, and when they were done, they disembarked much more prudently than before. On that day, they remained on the beach, setting camp and not daring to enter further into the Trojan territory.

She knew that her little trick had had its effect. Lost boats, spoilt goods, the traveling fatigue and a crushing first defeat had nicked the morale of the invaders. They hadn't even fought a single battle, and had already lost a dozen ships and a few hundred men. It wasn't much, but Hector would take what she could.  
She gazed over the temple of Apollo, further down the beach. For the moment, it remained untouched. But for how long?

Achilles had been lucky. Arriving at the same time as the first ships, he had chosen to debark further east, where the tides were so strong that Hector had not deemed useful to set up spikes. The Myrmidons came out unscathed, by sheer luck.  
When he saw the first ships sink, Achilles knew his coming here was worthwile. His blood boiled at the sight of the wreckages, the bodies and spoilt goods floating on the sea. The first victims of the war. The strategy and the destruction pleased him to no end. Not because he liked to see people die, but because there was a worthy man among his adversaries.


	4. The temple of Apollo

Hector advanced through the temple, leaving her men behind to fight against the Myrmidons. She passed the dead bodies of Apollo's priests with refrained anger. How could any warrior calling himself a hero blessed by the gods defile a temple in such a barbaric way? As she entered the cella, Hector finally caught sight of the man she was chasing. Achilles, son of Peleus. To her, a despicable man, who fought for his own glory, and didn't care for anyone else than himself.

She hadn't expected the proud warrior who stood tall in front of her, blonde hair like a mane around his head, and clear eyes that bore into her very soul. He was standing on Apollo's altar, his very presence fading the sacred aura she knew should have surrounded the room. Then, she realized that the stories were true, that the man standing here was truly of godly descent. There was this aura surrounding him that she had only seen in other demi-gods, wild and oppressing. She knew she would not win a fight against him, yet she refused to yield.

"You must be Hector." he said playfully. "Do you know who I am?"  
He was taking her lightly, gauging her with a mocking smile. She grit her teeth, thinking about the dead priests, and dear Briseis.  
"Those priests weren't armed."  
His chuckle unsettled her, and she raised her xiphos, following him as he exited the room in a leisurely pace.  
"Why kill you now prince? With no one to see you fall?" he said.  
His earnest expression unsettled Hector.

The Trojan prince had always pitied and despised demi-gods, and their tendency for destruction and irresponsibility. They were born gifted with everything she had painfully fought for, or that she would never even have. But they were also thrown into a world full of people did not understand them and that they could not understand. Demi-gods were different to simple humans like herself. Their strength, cunning or intelligence were so superior that they did not understand the struggles of their human counterparts. They lived by their own standards, their own laws. Others' lives meant nothing to them, because they were in truth, simply nothing. How could a candle compare to the brightness of the sun?

But now, she heard Achilles's genuine question. She lowered her xiphos and looked at him, only to find an expression that mirrored hers.  
"Why did you come here?"  
"They will be talking about this war in a thousand years." he answered in earnest, surprising even himself.  
"In a thousand years, the dust from our bones will be gone."  
"Yes prince. But our names will remain."  
Hector remained silent, surprised by his reasoning tone.  
"Is it worth the lives of those who died yesterday and the ones who will die tomorrow?"  
"Why would it not be?"  
"Look at your men mourning their comrades. If you don't see why, I cannot give you that answer."  
"Men die. That is how the world is. I prefer to leave this world a hero than a forgotten man."  
For a moment, a comfortable silence fell on the two warriors, as they each mulled over the other's words.

Then, Eudorus and the rest of the Myrmidons arrived. And they were once more Achilles of Phthia and Hector of Troy. Dionysus and Hector's Apollonian guard followed closely. The two armies stood there, waiting tensely for their leaders to unleash them. A look at her second in command informed Hector of the safe return of Briseis. She let out a relieved sigh, unaware of Achilles' disappointed look. The demi-god walked back into the temple.  
"Go home prince. Drink some wine. Make love to your wife. Tomorrow, we'll have our war."  
"You speak of war as if it is a game. But how many wives wait at Troy's gates for husbands they will never see again?"  
"Perhaps your brother can comfort them. I hear he is good at charming other men's wives."  
Hector pursed her lips. It was too late. That moment was gone. She left as Achilles shooed her away, and soon forgot about that encounter.  
The prince of Troy had a city to defend.

Achilles looked at the Trojan prince as he left. He had just met the man but Hector puzzled him almost as much as Odysseus. When Eudorus asked him why he let the prince go, he gave a shallow excuse and shook his deranging thoughts away, turning to his army.  
He was a man of war. Of epic battles and glory, whose name would go through the centuries. This was his way. This was how he would fight against Troy.


	5. Ptolemus

Briseis threw herself in her parents' arms. King Briseus of Lyrnessus was visibly relieved at seeing his daughter safe and sound. Briseis' three brothers gathered around them to celebrate the return of their sister.

Behind her, Hector finished climbing the steps to one of Troy's many guest wings, where the royal family of Lyrnessus was currently residing. Standing a few steps away, Andromache, Cassandra, Helen, and Ptolemus, the grand priest of Apollo, had come to welcome the young woman back.

"We thank you, Prince Hector." said king Briseus, finally releasing his daughter to come meet the crown prince. "We thought our daughter lost, but you risked your own life to bring her back to us. Lyrnessus will not forget this."  
Hector gave a little smile.  
"The princess is a good friend of my wife's, and my sister Casandra has told me many times what an exemplary priestess of Apollo she was. I couldn't leave her in the hands of the Greeks. I am sure you would have done the same, had our roles been reversed."

Briseus smiled widely. But before the king could answer, Ptolemus gave a small laugh.  
"Prince Hector performed her duty excellently today. It is natural for a warrior of Troy to guarantee the safety of its guests. Princess Briseis should never have been put in harm's way in the first place. We will ensure that this will not happen again."  
The foreign king nodded gravely, the elation of reuniting with Briseis leaving place to the anger of a father who had almost lost his only daughter.  
"Have you found out about the circumstances of this incident?"  
Ptolemus' expression remained contrite.  
"It seems that there was an error in the registers. Another Briseis had volunteered to serve at Apollo's temple, but the servant who was supposed to fetch her has been sent to the princess instead. As dedicated as princess Briseis is, she did not question the assignment. It was an unfortunate error by one of our supervisors."  
King Briseus' brow furrowed. As he was about to ask for the identity of that supervisor, Andromache stepped forward and bowed deeply.  
"My deepest apologies, king Briseus. I was the one who reviewed the priestesses' assignments yesterday. I don't know how I could have made such a terrible mistake, but I will accept full responsibility."  
"The responsibility is shared" added Cassandra, in her low voice. "As the grand priestess, I have burdened princess Andromache with that task when she already has much to do. I should have assigned her an aide."  
The king deflated. How could he ask for punishment on the crown princess of Troy? He sent a questioning look to Hector, who gave her wife a hard stare.

"Andromache made a mistake, but when she noticed it, she immediately informed me so I could go retrieve Briseis. Hopefully, I arrived in time. Andromache didn't mean any harm, but the error is still there. I will punish her accordingly. And Cassandra will make sure this doesn't happen again."  
"Please be lenient." Briseis' voice intervened. "It was a simple mistake and I don't resent Andromache for this. I should have protested when I noticed I was sent out of the wall. If anything, I am grateful to the prince for having rescued me. Andromache and I are both priestesses of Apollo. I hope that we can still be friends."

Briseus yielded at his daughter's plea.  
"Of course. Come Briseis, you must be exhausted. Prince Hector, we will retire for the evening."  
"Certainly. I will see you tomorrow at the meeting."


	6. What would I do without you?

Back in their shared rooms, Hector threw her weapons on a rack.  
"How did that happen?"  
Andromache shook her head, helping her husband to take off her armor.  
"I don't know. No Briseis was on the register when I reviewed it. And certainly not the daughter of an ally."

Hector gritted her teeth.  
"Ptolemus, that old fool. What is he trying to do? We no longer have time to spend on internal feuds!"  
"He does. When you are busy on the front and king Priam negotiates with our allies, the duties of the grand priest remain the same. You were earning yourself some achievements out there. Perhaps he doesn't want to be outshone."

Andromache handed Hector a basin of water and a small washcloth. The prince started scrubbing the dirt and blood off of her arms.  
"I wonder if king Briseus will support us in tomorrow's council. He seemed quite upset."  
"But quite grateful as well. Even if he doesn't like it, he still owes you a debt. He admitted it out loud. We were lucky that you were so prompt to respond."  
"And that you found out about her so early."

Andromache hailed a servant, asking him to send for a doctor and bring food and medicine to princess Briseis. As her wife busied herself, Hector saw one of her guards slightly shift so that he was in her line of sight. The man caught her eyes and made a small sign of the hand. Hector nodded and the guard regained his post.

As soon as the servant left, Hector grabbed a chiton.  
"Andromache, is there something you want to tell me?"  
"What do you mean? I did nothing wrong, my prince."  
"You know what I mean. You haven't been a priestess since our wedding. And even if you keep helping with the cult from time to time, you rarely handle registers. This is Cassandra's duty. Not yours."  
Andromache smiled.  
"How observant of you."  
"I try to."  
"Tell me, how many priestesses did you see at the temple?"  
As Hector gathered her thoughts, Andromache put the basin away and helped her wrap herself in a dark blue himation.  
"Aside from Briseis, there was only one other priestess. Dead."  
"Blonde hair?"  
"No."  
"Then, this is nothing you need to worry about."

Hector let out a relieved sigh. She gave her wife an affectionate smile.  
"Will you let me know of her name? In case I stumble upon her."  
"Chryseis."  
The prince nodded.  
"Is there a chance Ptolemus knows?"  
"I was careful. As you said, I rarely review the register. That was the perfect chance for him. He probably didn't see past that."  
Hector nodded. She gave a small kiss on her wife's forehead.  
"What would I do without you?"  
Andromache laughed.  
"And what would I do without you?"

Andromache sat at her table and started to unravel her hair. Hector dropped behind her to help comb through the dark strands.  
"You should perhaps talk to Helen." she said, ignoring her wife's curious stare. "Now most of all, we need all of the allies that we can gather."  
Outside of their apartments, the guards turned a blind eye to the cloaked silhouette that left the corridor in a hurry.


End file.
